Rough Waters
by jlocked2212
Summary: John is suspicious that Sherlock knows nothing about stars and planets even though he wanted to be a pirate as a child. What really happened to Captain Sherlock Holmes? After an accident John learns the truth about why Sherlock doesn't remember his childhood dream and has to try and help Sherlock work out the issues in his past. Eventually Johnlock. AU no Fall.
1. Curious at 3am

**A/n: Just a little idea I had about why Sherlock really doesn't know anything about the solar system even though he appreciates the beauty of the stars and wanted to be a pirate as a child. This story was started under another title, but i have made changed and revised what the course of this story is going to be. I've also deleted the old version. I just could not get it to work for me! **

**Chapter 1 **

It started soon after The Woman disappeared. John developed a strong curiosity about how such a brilliant man could not know anything about the solar system. This curiosity also led him to wonder what kind of childhood Sherlock had that he had never absorbed those basic facts. John had it ingrained in his mind that the Earth moved around the sun and he was convinced there were nine planets even though Pluto had recently been disqualified as a planet. Even a few basic constellations were part of his very basic education about space. Even so, the man that knew about over 240 types of tobacco ash couldn't distinguish one planet from another let along find constellations.

The first night it really occurred to him was when John was awake after a particular bad set of dream about dying and the war. He was watching telly around 3am after he had given up on sleep for the night. John flipped through a few channels trying to decide what to watch. He had fallen asleep twice while reading in bed and succeeded in waking up drenched in sweat each time he did. Crap telly was even worse at 3am. This had happened more than once since he had been back and usually when he couldn't sleep Sherlock had a cup of tea sitting on the table when he came downstairs. Either Sherlock could deduce when John wouldn't be able to sleep or he heard him shouting from downstairs. John still was unsure which it was. Either way the company usually comforted him enough that he would doze off after he drank tea and watched Sherlock puzzle out cases and think. Tonight though, he was alone. It was a rare occasion for Sherlock was passed out upstairs after spending almost three straight days awake trying to solve a case that involved cake, dogs and dead men.

He scrolled through dozens of channels full of ads, bad music and reality shows. There was a documentary about pirates on which he settled on because nothing else caught his interest. As he watched, he remembered Mycroft's reference to Sherlock wanting to be a pirate as a child. John had to chuckle when he thought of a small version of Sherlock running around with an eye patch and a wooden sword. The longer John watched the more questions he had about Sherlock.

The program droned on about how in the past pirates used constellations to guide their journeys around the globe. They had instruments that could help them, but their knowledge of the stars was helpful in several ways. His flatmate outright admitted he didn't know the Earth orbited around the Sun, which had actually been important in sailing, and he told John he had very little knowledge of the heavens in general. John found this a bit off. If Sherlock was interested in something, he absorbed as much about the subject as he could before there was another case or something to distract him. Obviously as a child he had held an interest in pirates and he probably spent all his waking hours, and the ones meant for sleeping, learning about pirates, privateers and ship navigation. He doubted Sherlock had many cases to solve as a child in primary school.

His flatmate was not someone who shared much about his life, but John had gathered bits and pieces of information along the way to suggest that Sherlock's was not a happy childhood. Sally Donovan's insults were mild compared to what children could come up with to hurt someone who was different. John suspected Sherlock had spent a lot of his time alone honing his deduction skills and learning about the things that interested him rather than playing in the school yard with other children. If Sherlock wanted to be a pirate, he would have learned everything there was no know about pirates so he could be an accurate representation and John assumed Sherlock had learned skills to make his childhood self a convincing pirate. So why didn't Sherlock learn about the solar system? Why was all that knowledge deleted?

Somehow, despite no Sherlock and no tea, John managed to nod off just before dawn. Sherlock had already gone out when he woke up several hours later. John tucked the questions into the back of his mind and decided to find time to ask. He had a feeling there was more to this story than just storage space.

**A/n: Input always appreciated.**


	2. Taking on the Case

**A/n: thank you everyone for the input as always! I don't own any of these characters. I just had an idea. **

**Chapter 2**

A week later they had several appointments about cases in the afternoon. So far Sherlock had only accepted one out of three. At the moment John was finishing up pushing the third rejected man out the door while he continued to complain that Sherlock couldn't possibly be implying he had an affair. After he finished that rant he continued if Sherlock didn't know the Earth moved around the Sun, he wasn't intelligent enough to help him get his money back anyway.

"John you have to stop including these unimportant details in your posts. They only prove to add fuel to the fire." Sherlock complained as the man continued to rant at him. John just rolled his eyes at the detective hoping that Sherlock would get up and actually help him shove the large man out the door. After trying to politely guide the man out, John finally unceremoniously pushed the former-potential client out onto the landing and shut the door in the man's face as he continued to spew nonsense out of his mouth.

"Nice one there Sherlock. Could you try not to offend the last of our possible cases today?" John begged as he tried to catch his breath. Sherlock hadn't moved from his chair as John had bullied the man out of the flat.

"He was cheating on his wife, obvious by the suit condition and the soap he used, but he wanted me to help him get his money back from her parents? Really John, I think you and your strong moral principle would have objections to me helping with that particular venture," Sherlock scoffed. He moved over to look over John's shoulder as he sat down at his computer again. John had started to type out the blog post for their most recent adventure that he was calling The Cake Walk. Sherlock continued to comment and correct him as he typed. "It was lemon cake not vanilla. That dog actually had a breed? They breed dogs to look like that one?"

"I'm just saying you could have just told him no rather than pointing out all those things about him, his weight and his mother." John sighed as he rubbed his eyes and ignored Sherlock's remarks about the blog.

"Hmmmm," Sherlock did not agree or disagree. Neither one spoke for a few moments and the only sounds in the flat were John's slow typing and the muted sound of London traffic. John thought now might be a good time to question Sherlock. The man had brought up Sherlock's lack of knowledge about the solar system and brought his own questions about the matter to the front of his mind.

"Sherlock, if you wanted to be a pirate as a child why don't you remember anything about the solar system?" When Sherlock looked at him curiously, John added. "Because the sun and stars were important for navigation. If you were interested in piracy, I would think you had learned something about navigation as well."

"I don't know when Mycroft decided to be nostalgic and share information about my childhood goals with you, but I don't remember having that particular aspiration. I remember very little about my childhood John, and the things I have deleted were not essential to the work and not essential for my well being so if you don't mind I think we can see our next appointment." He guestured at the door while he glared at John.

"You just deleted your childhood dreams?" John asked incredulous. Sherlock turned to face him and sighed.

"John, what career path did you aspire to as a child?" Sherlock asked impatiently as he stared at John who rolled his eyes. He suspected he was about to be chastised.

"Doctor," John answered. It was all he had ever wanted to be. He had always wanted one of the white coats at least, but helping and healing people had always been a dream for him.

"Then you are a rarity because many people do not know what their childhood dreams will eventually involve when they are children. I am one of millions of children who flung aside childish dreams for reality. As I've told you before, I only keep the essential information. If I wanted to be a pirate as a child, it doesn't matter now and it was a very silly waste of time," Sherlock told him impatiently. John nodded because for once Sherlock actually seemed to have a normal explanation for his behavior.

"Of course it was. You were eight," Mycroft Holmes stepped into the room with an umbrella in hand.

"Oh, what do you want?" Sherlock scowled at his older brother, but Mycroft continued to recount the story to John.

"He ran around the estate claiming to be Captain Sherlock Holmes. Once he kidnapped the neighbor's dog for a ransom and went out on a small boat in the pond with the poor creature. I don't think I've ever seen an elderly lady hand out milk and cookies so fast, not even our own grandmother," Mycroft smiled at the memory. It was the same kind of smile he had worn the day he told John about The Woman's death. The smile was on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes or have any warmth to it. It was a sad sort of half smile that looked awkward on his face. It reminded John of why he thought there was more to Sherlock's memory lapse than choosing a real occupation and growing out of dreams.

"Are you here only to tell John stories about my horrendous deeds as a child or do you have more pressing matters?" Sherlock interrupted Mycroft's storytelling. John suppressed a chuckle.

"Of course I have something for you to work on. I am your next appointment. I was just filling in some gaps for John. This case is urgent, of course. I will need you to start on it as soon as possible. I would judge by the shouts of the man who just left you do not have another pressing case... "

"And I'm sure it is a matter of national security. John don't schedule him in the future. I refuse to work with him," Sherlock picked up his violin and began walking around the room.

"Do not blame John. I had my assistant set up the appointment under false pretenses for precisely that reason," Mycroft began to explain what he needed from the two of them. Sherlock eventually became frustrated with his brother and left the meeting. John however did take the case file and wrote down the details. With only one case to work on, Sherlock would be bored after a few days and would probably work on this to get rid of his mental energy even though he hated to help Mycroft. As John finished writing down some of Mycroft's instructions, he paused and looked at Sherlock's older brother.

"Whatever happened to Captain Sherlock Holmes?" John hoped Mycroft would be more willing to explain Sherlock's disdain for his childhood than the man himself was. Mycroft sighed.

"The same thing as he said. He grew up and gave up on the dream then deleted it as something unimportant. I believe by the next summer he was preoccupied with chemistry and experiments. He hasn't changed much since then."

"He gave up on childhood imagination and everything...completely in one year?" John wondered out loud. He remembered clinging to moments like that as fiercely as he could. He remembered getting in a wrestling match with Harry when she tried to tell him Santa wasn't real when he was eight. He doubted he was alone in that kind of behavior.

"Sometimes children are required to," Mycroft told him. The answer only made John more suspicious. He stared to ask another question but Mycroft cut him off. "I trust you and Sherlock will work on that as soon as possible."

He turned and left the flat quickly. Sherlock came down the stairs at the sound of the door closing.

"I was sure he was going to be bothering us for hours. What did you say to make him leave?" Sherlock asked smirking.

"I don't know." Sherlock shrugged and continued to play the violin while John pondered this latest development.

**A/n. Input is always appreciated.**


	3. A Day Spent Elsewhere

**Chapter 3 – A Day Spent Elsewhere**

In the beginning Sherlock and John rarely had a reason to consult a calendar or even mention the date on a daily basis. Since they had been taking clients from outside the Yard investigations and since John's blog had started getting thousands of hits everyday, they had needed to set up appointments to better manage their time. So a schedule and datebook were a necessary evil.

On Tuesday, March 26th the two of them had scheduled three appointments between nine and eleven o'clock in the morning. It wasn't unusual or exceptional in any way. In fact, the time and number of appointments was rather limited compared to Saturdays. Saturdays usually consisted of many quick appointments over the course of several hours. It had become the worst day of the week in John's opinion. Many cases ended up being too boring for Sherlock to consider, but the people were often distressed or upset by his flippant attitude. John was either emotionally or physically exhausted till the end of Saturdays. At first he was sure Sherlock would have a blatant disregard for the appointments and the schedule. Fortunately, for John, if it was written down in the book, Sherlock remembered to stay home until the appointments were over. He might ignore the people or work on experiments while John talked to them, but he always hung around the flat to give a final yes or no for every case.

So when John woke up and couldn't find Sherlock anywhere in the flat or get him on his mobile, he was very concerned. By the time he gave up searching on his own, the first person arrived to ask for Sherlock's assistance. John begged an apology, and he called the other two people as well, citing a family emergency, and rescheduled the appointments.

John had begun to pace a hole in the carpet by the time Sherlock showed up at the flat again around three o'clock. He was even considering calling Mycroft.

"Where have you been?" John almost shouted. Sherlock was obviously startled by John's actions. He looked at John with an irritated expression

"Working," Sherlock waved John off like he was swatting at flies.

"Sherlock, people come here to present you with cases. Cases they think are important and that need solved. They get very upset with me when I call them and cancel appointments. We also depend on these to eat so I would appreciate it if you could show up for them," John was almost shouting, but not quite. Sherlock looked back at him and cocked his head.

"I apologize. I forgot to look at the datebook and I had something important to do. I didn't realize it would interfere."

"You just went out and about in London all day without checking your phone or needing me to look up some random information?" John raised his eyebrows. Sherlock checked his mobile every fifteen seconds when they were out and about in London or called him at random times when he had to check information he couldn't puzzle out on his own. Sherlock pulled the phone out now and raised his eyebrows at John. He seemed surprised he had fifteen missed calls.

"Yes."

"Is everything alright Sherlock?"

"Why wouldn't it be all right?" Sherlock scowled and studied him for a moment. "You are concerned."

"This is the first time since I've known you that you have acted this absentminded and evasive at the same time while we aren't on a case." John told him. His flatmate rolled his eyes and impatiently explained

"You don't need to worry. If you must know, I went to visit my father's grave." John sat in stunned silence. When John continued to stare, Sherlock added. "He died twenty-eight years ago today."

"Oh."

"Yes." Sherlock shifted from one foot to the other.

"So you just went to the grave on your own?" John asked still incredulous.

"Does that surprise you?"

"No...yes...it seems….."John trailed off into silence. He wondered if he should even say it.

"What?" Sherlock's deep voice broke the quiet after a few moments.

"Well, it's awful sentimental for you Sherlock. You don't believe in an afterlife….you once told children people are burned when they died. You don't seem like type to visit graves. That seem more like something I would do…"John trailed off again. Sherlock moved over to the window and looked out onto the street as he spoke.

"My father was someone who understood me from a very young age and never feared my strange questions or my curiosity about things other children shied away from. He indulged my interests because he realized I was not going to learn anything that didn't capture my attention. He was very important to me. I still miss his presence and his patience."

John was silent for a few moments as he stared at the floor. He had never heard Sherlock speak with such admiration or kindness in his voice. It might have been the first time in their friendship that Sherlock had not used sarcasm or wit in his description of another person. He obviously loved his father very much even though he wasn't sure how to say it. John looked up at Sherlock's back.

"You've never mentioned how important he was to you."

"I never felt the need to. We rarely talk about our families." John nodded. It was true. John's sister was a sore subject and Sherlock glared fiercely whenever Mycroft was mentioned.

"What happened to him?" Sherlock turned back to John as he explained.

"I have no idea. I was too young. Natural causes probably or from smoking heavily. He smoked cigars almost constantly. I don't know of any serious health problems that run in my family. I just remembered he died and everyone dressed in black for ages. Things changed after he died…" Sherlock shrugged and went into the kitchen to look into the microscope.

John quickly checked his math. Twenty eight years ago Sherlock was eight. In fact, he was almost nine. He should remember the death of his father or remember what his family told him about it. John could remember several deaths in his family when he was that young and most of them had been distant family members. It was strange that Sherlock had completely forgotten what had caused his father's demise especially if they two of them were as close as he made it seem. John recalled the conversation he had with Mycroft two months ago. Eight? How was this connected to Sherlock's change from pirate to scientist? Was it connected at all? He started to ask Sherlock another question, but his flatmate had already disappeared. John sighed. He certainly wasn't going to find out tonight.

**A/n: Input is always appreciated. **


	4. Coffee Shop Setup

**A/n: Thanks for all the feedback! **

**Chapter 4 - **

As he entered the coffee shop, John realized how tired he was. The crime solving duo had chased a serial killer all over England. So far there had been a murder in the first eleven of the most populated areas in the United Kingdom.

Over the past six months there had been eleven murders across the UK. They had been on the go for three months trying to track the murderer down. Sherlock was frustrated and John was exhausted. They had been moving from city to city trying to find where the killer was going to strike next for two weeks now. Sherlock had only been contacted after seventh victim. Since the murders were spread out of all in different cities, the different units of police had only contacted each other after several murders had happened. Victim number one had a large number one carved into his chest and the second one had a number two. After that they were all in sequential order. Sherlock continued to complain he hadn't had enough data. They had tried, but they didn't know where the killer was picking his targets from. Too many variables Sherlock had said.

Now the two of them were wandering around the eleventh largest city in England looking for a coffee shop from a certain chain. Sherlock deduced that the killer was picking his victims from those locations. After talking to the fifth victim's wife, Sherlock knew that victim frequented the chain. They checked with all the victim's families and all of them had been to the shops on the night they died. They had tried going at it on their own in several different cities, but they were only two people and couldn't cover every shop in town. This time they were working with the police. The local police were checking out the other stores, but Sherlock and John were making their way to the one Sherlock was sure the killer was going to use.

"It is centrally located to the largest car parks in the city. It also has several construction sites nearby which is where we have found the other bodies." Sherlock explained. John followed as usual. He trusted Sherlock's instincts to lead them to the right man. It was also separated from the rest of the chains by a large distance. They sat in the coffee shop ordering drinks and food for a couple of hours before John became bored. Sherlock continued to offer bits of information about the patrons, but John could only listen to the observations so long and read the paper so many times. It was dark and raining outsides which made it difficult to observe the people on the street as well.

"How long until close?" John asked. The coroner estimated each person had died just after one in the morning. Sherlock suspected the killer picked up each victim near close in order to have the fewest number of witnesses. Employees would be busy closing and patrons would be too busy trying to finish their drinks to pay attention.

"Another twenty minutes," Sherlock supplied. He continued to watch the scene around him. They lapsed back into silence. Suddenly Sherlock stood up and walked out of the door. Up ahead John could see a small blonde woman following a man down the street. The two of them turned a corner and Sherlock took off at a run. John was hard pressed to keep up with those long legs this time. They rounded the corner and the man had pulled a knife on the young woman.

"Stop," John shouted. The man pushed the young blonde aside and broke into a run. The two took off running after him again. They were led in a along chase across several blocks, around corners and along alleyways.

They finally caught up with him around the docks. This city was along the coast and the docks were large to accommodate the industries that kept this area thriving. The murderer continued to run down the water side street with Sherlock right behind him. John had fallen behind a few strides when a woman had opened her car door and knocking him down. He saw Sherlock follow the man out onto the docks and onto the first boat. Neither one seemed to care they were jumping from private boat to private boat but John followed their progress from the street.

John quickly called the police officers that were stationed at the nearest chain store. They would be here in a few minutes. He hoped he could cut off the criminal when he eventually ended up on shore at the other end of the dock. He followed them up and down the docks and tried to keep up with them as they crossed the water. The wind and rain were making the chase difficult for both of them. The boats bobbed and rocked in the water as the two men jumped from one to the other. John's heart tightened as Sherlock slipped and slid on the boats. They continued to move farther and farther from the shore as they kept jumping from boat to boat.

John followed the suspected murderer's progress from shore then ran out on to the dock and met him when he jumped off the last boat. He struggled with the man exchanging blows until he knocked the man down. The suspect was half unconscious when John pulled him to his feet.

"Sherlock I could use your handcuffs now." John received no answer. He turned around looking for Sherlock, but the man was nowhere to be seen. "Sherlock!?"

His chest tightened and John let the man drop and jumped onto the boat. He jumped to the next boat and heard shouts from the water. Sherlock's form was in between the two boats and he was shouting nonsense. John tried shouting down to him but received no answer. Sherlock was obviously struggling to keep his head above water at this point. John quickly kicked off his shoes and jumped into the water near Sherlock.

"Don't you know how to swim?" John grunted as he grabbed his friend's lanky form and started to pull in back toward the dock's edge.

"Not him. NO! no no no…. Not him." Sherlock mumbled. He seemed barely conscious. John finally reached the beams of the dock. He pulled himself half out of the water with one arm and looked around for help. The police were finally pulling up and he started shouting and waving. The officers helped him and Sherlock out of the water and called for an ambulance for Sherlock. John was starting to panic.

"Sherlock, what happened? Did he hit you? Drug you? Did you fall? Did you hit your head?" John began to lightly smack Sherlock's face in an attempt to snap him out of the daze and keep him awake. As he did so, Sherlock seemed to rouse himself a bit, but just as Sherlock's eyes met John's he shouted again and fell back into John's arms unconscious. A lump was forming on Sherlock's forehead. Somehow he had hit his head. He wasn't bleed though. Still the random sentences and words were unconnected which worried John. Concussion? Skull Fracture? Brain trauma. John's brain was full of medical knowledge and his thoughts continued to jump from bad to worse.

Finally an ambulance pulled up and the medics loaded Sherlock into the back. He still was unconscious. Panic overtook John Watson as they drove to the hospital. They managed to bring Sherlock out of his blackout, but he continued to mumble nonsense about boats and Him. He seemed like he was in shock and his eyes were distant. Over and over Sherlock mumbled "Not him."

Once they reached the hospital John dialed Mycroft. Since he wasn't family, John couldn't get much information out of the hospital staff. He explained what had happened and some of the things Sherlock had been mumbling. Mycroft seemed extremely tense while he asked about his brother's current condition. "Yes, he'll be fine, but no one knows what he is talking about."

"I'll be there by morning." Mycroft's voice was tight and his responses short as they hung up. John settled in for a long night at the hospital. As doctors poked and prodded Sherlock, John tried to sleep in a chair outside.


	5. Hospital Reveal

**Chapter 5**

John didn't sleep or eat for the next twenty-four hours. He barely spoke. Mostly he watched. He watched nurses and doctors rush about. He watched Mycroft speak to professionals. He watched other patients move about the hospital, but he didn't see Sherlock. The one person he wanted to see was on the other side of a door.

"No brain damage, but the blunt force trauma might have created a linear brain fracture. They have to do more tests." Mycroft had told him in between meetings and phone calls. John knew what that could be like. Confusion, balance problems, headaches, swelling or worse. A fracture could fit some of Sherlock symptoms especially the confusion part. He tried to ask Mycroft about the mumbling but Sherlock's older brother waved him off.

"Later." Mycroft told him. John was content for now. Later was better than never or forget about it. Finally after a second night sitting on the couch outside the room and a night of no sleep or tea, John started shouting at Mycroft in the middle of the hospital hall. Mycroft made one of his faces and ushered John into an empty hospital room next to Sherlock's.

"What is going on Mycroft? I don't know really know what is wrong with Sherlock. I haven't seen him leave his room even though you keep telling me they are doing tests. I want to know what Sherlock has been babbling about." John ragged and Mycroft listened patiently.

"He is fine. There is nothing physically wrong with him that will last." Mycroft told him. John raised his eyebrows.

"Nothing physically wrong that will last?"

"There may be some memories that have resurfaced that may cause him some trouble later." Obviously Mycroft was hesitant to explain. John's anger intensified.

"Mycroft, if you didn't know, living with your brother can be difficult if not impossible some days. If there is something that is going to make it even more difficult, I would appreciate knowing now." John was trying to keep his voice down, but Mycroft sighed anyway.

"Sherlock has remembered the death of our father."

"Something happened to him when Sherlock was eight didn't it?" John asked. Mycroft cocked his head, much like Sherlock did when John surprised him, and nodded.

"When Sherlock was about eight years old, he was obsessed with pirates and navigation as you alluded to a few months ago. My father loved to indulge Sherlock's interests, and he suggested that the two of them take our family boat out on a pirate expedition. It was the middle of March. A terrible storm blew in while they were out on the water. The wind and waves capsized the boat and it broke apart. The two of them were left clinging to the boat until they could be rescued. My father tied Sherlock to the floating wood and gave him two life jackets to keep him afloat. Father only had one and he was more badly injured than Sherlock. When they found the two of them my father was barely alive and Sherlock had fallen unconscious and had hypothermia. Father died two days later and Sherlock was in a coma for a week. When he came out of it, Sherlock remembered nothing about the accident or pirates." Mycroft told him the story while John stood silent. John mouth hung open till the end of the tale.

"So he just deleted the memory of everything. The pirates, the ships, the navigation even your father's death?" John asked still amazed.

"He didn't delete the memory. He repressed it. I'm sure of it. I've seen my brother delete things John, and what he did with the memory of that day and piracy wasn't eradication. He was eight, and I don't think he knew how to delete things then. He didn't have that disciplined control over his mind until he was older. I'm sure it wasn't until he was at university that he really learned how to delete things. Mother wanted him to pass his classes so he remembered everything until the tests and deleted what he didn't need after. I remember coming to pick him up for holidays and not hearing a word the whole way back home. I asked him once what he was doing, and he said he was reorganizing. Only later did I realize what he was doing. He deleted people, places, information and reorganized everything. He shifted from university student back to Sherlock. He is very efficient at it now. Why do you think you never hear about past flat mates or times as university?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow at John.

"You mean he deleted it? He's not being mysterious...he just doesn't remember?" John was incredulous. The mystery of Sherlock Holmes was suddenly more and much less curious at the same time.

"I'm sure he remembers names and possibly some other things, but he sees and remembers every detail. Rather than taking up all that space for memoires he didn't care about, he deleted them entirely. I'm sure there are things he doesn't remember about you either." Mycroft explained.

"Hopefully that night at Angelo's," John murmured under his breath.

"What?" The other man cocked an eyebrow.

"Nothing. So that day on the water your father drowned and Sherlock repressed anything that reminded him about that day including all that knowledge that he had about space, stars and pirates? How could he do that Mycroft? He has such control over every part of his mind, but he didn't remember that he did it?," John asked still confused. Sherlock was a walking, talking computer sometimes that just spit out facts and deductions, but he had his brain so organized, so controlled, how could he forget something without meaning to?

"Fear. Fear is the easy answer. Like I said he wasn't as disciplined then. Sherlock was eight years old and he was afraid. He was afraid for hours and he passed out from hypothermia. We don't know how long he was awake while Father was unconscious. We don't know what he saw or heard that day. When he woke up in the hospital, and couldn't remember what happened, no one had the heart to tell him what really happened to Father."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing. Mother gave no explanation for his death."

"So did he invent one or what? Sherlock is always asking why."

"He threw himself into his schoolwork. He didn't ask why our father died. He asked why is the world made up of atoms? He asked why does the woman at the café have dirty jewelry but a clean wedding ring? He answered the questions and asked more, but he never asked about father. Sometimes I wonder if he deleted his love for Father too." Mycroft sounded so sad.

"He has talked about him and even though he doesn't know how to say it well, he cared about your father very much. It's obvious he admired and respected him."John quietly explained the visit to the grave and the things Sherlock had told him. Mycroft smiled a bit at that.

"Well, he might be a bit difficult to live with for a while. They've kept him sedated up until now to make sure there wasn't any lasting brain damage but it seems like the blow he took only injured his skull not his brain." Mycroft started to leave.

"Mycroft…." Sherlock's brother turned to face John as they left the room. "Will he delete it?"

"After what you just told me, I doubt he would do something so rash. I think he has remembered something that was so traumatic that he buried it deep within himself. I don't know if he will be the same, but he will recover Dr. Watson."

Mycroft strode away from John and down the hall. John heard Sherlock speaking in the hospital room and suddenly he came strutting out in his black coat with the collar turned up.

"Let's go John. Did they capture the criminal after I fell in the water?" Sherlock asked rushed.

"Yes."

"Heard anything from Lestrade?" Sherlock pressed John for details. Same old Sherlock it seemed.

"Not since my cell phone was destroyed when I jumped into the water to make sure you didn't drown." John grimaced. Sherlock turned on his heel and walked toward the exit. Once they were out on the street Sherlock hailed a cab. They rode in silence until they neared the Yard.

"Thank you for that." Sherlock said suddenly.

"For what?" John looked around thinking he had done something without realizing it.

"For making sure I didn't drown." Sherlock clarified. John nodded as the cab came to a stop. Both of them climbed out of the cab and headed into the Yard to find out more about the murderer. It seemed for now things would continue as if nothing happened.

John couldn't help but wonder if he and Sherlock would ever address what had happened or these memories of his father's death. As they talked to Lestrade, John was distracted and only half paying attention. Sherlock and Lestrade decided that that they were sure they didn't need to set up another search in another city. They were sure they had the right man.

"Well since there was not a murder the night you and John tracked this guy down and there hasn't been one since you were in the hospital…I'm confident this is our man." Lestrade explained.

The two of them headed back to the flat after that and John went to sleep in his own bed for the first time in two weeks. He hadn't slept at all for almost thirty-six hours. John only woke up when he heard Sherlock shouting in his sleep.

"I guess we are going to have to talk about this." John grumbled as he looked at the clock. He went downstairs and roused Sherlock from his sleep. The man's eyes were wide when he opened them. He jumped off the sofa and began pacing around the flat.

"I need something to work on."

"You might just need to talk about this."

"I can process it fine on my own thank you."

"You obviously couldn't before."

"I was eight before."

"When you remembered, you couldn't say more than a few sentences!" John was almost shouting. Sherlock glared over at him.

"As soon as I get work I will be fine. " Sherlock insisted.

"Fine." John made a cup of tea and went back to bed. He was still angry the next morning when he got up. Sherlock was playing the violin when he came downstairs.

"We have a case."

"Good." John nodded as he made breakfast.

"Quite."

John continued to worry as they headed out to the Yard to see the body that Lestrade called about. He wondered how Sherlock was really doing and if he would tell John if there was something really wrong. John knew it couldn't be this easy.


End file.
